when everything looses its taste and vengeance cloth the
agony of the heart, the gnashing of teeth birth the beginning
of hatred, and the sting of death lives with thy soul, through
out generation to come
every faith challenge the discernment of the heart, living behind
the tears of the innocent, that calls the coolness of a stumble
heart, sprouted like an incense fume, chanting the bravery of
fear
as the eyes sees the suffering of the soul, the venue settled
down an avenue of loosing one's life, an experience of thy heart
that lives beyond man's personal conviction to die, even death
is not an option just to rise an honor to what faith calls
as the ladder of pain hurts the shadow of death, the will to live
is beyond compare, to shed blood, is what it is call, living
through dying is the only wisdom to live in harmony to every
man's faith
life is a call, to gain the fame of living is to give what is best in
life, it is in a small thing you give that, life brings us to see
and find the meaning of what is life...... a call to live
Antonio Liao
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-voice-of-the-poor/
